All Manner of Sorts
by ladyofsilverdawn
Summary: Fred and George nicked the Sorting Hat and cast a spell on it so that it would sort based on best possible shag. Harry is staggered when the hat places him in the same group as Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, and Blaise Zabini. Written for HP Kink Fest 2017. COMPLETE.


**Rating:** NC-17  
 **Main Pairing:** Harry Potter/Theodore Nott/Draco Malfoy/Blaise Zabini  
 **Side Pairing(s):** Pansy Parkinson/Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley; Fred Weasley/George Weasley/Millicent Bulstrode; various others  
 **Warnings/Content:** bottom!Harry, humour, mild and brief femslash, mild and brief twincest, foursome (M/M/M/M), anal sex, blowjob, deepthroating, rimming, double penetration, Hogwarts eighth year, pining!Draco, hot kissing  
 **Notes:** MyFirstistheFourth, hugs for the beta. The featured kink is bottom!Harry.

* * *

 **All Manner of Sorts**

Bounding past the portrait of the coy Lady Fancy Perry and her fawning lady 'friends,' George and Fred Weasley entered the eighth-year common-room; making curfew with only three seconds to spare. They wound through the sea of studying, talking, and napping former Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and Slytherins, to the centre of the oval chamber.

George lifting his right leg and Fred lifting his left, they stepped onto an oversized, burnt-orange couch. Once they found their balance on the springy chenille cushions, Fred and George surveyed their expectant fellow classmates.

"Shall you or I do the honours?" George asked; his voice breathless from the many stairs and filled with excitement.

"Since it was my idea, I'll do the honours," Fred answered, pointing the tip of his wand to his neck. " _Sonorus_." Sharing a quick grin with George, Fred called out, "Class meeting! Stop whatever you're doing and come around…" His voice boomed in the stone room—the displayed tapestries on the high walls absorbing only so much—and travelled up the pair of spiral stairs, one on either side of the lit fireplace, to the private bedrooms above; his voice could even be heard by those in the attached bathrooms.

On another couch, mirror to the one George and Fred stood on, Ron startled awake with a shriek, his mind-numbing copy of _The Theory of Simultaneous Cosmic Phenomena_ by Ophiuchus Sinistra falling from his lap and onto the floor. Glancing up, he scowled when he saw George and Fred sniggering down at him.

"Shut it," Ron grumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before retrieving his book and placing it on the coffee table in front of him. "You two have been nothing but sodding gits— _all year_. Don't even know why you had to come back…"

"And miss out on being able to study for our NEWTs with you, little brother," George teased. "But to think," his voice turned disappointed, "all this time, you've been holding out on us."

"Holding out on what?" Ron asked, confused.

"Why," Fred went on in complete seriousness, pausing for dramatic effect, "learning how to study by way of osmosis."

Ron growled, yanked out two pillows squished behind him, and hurled them at Fred and George. As if they were soaring Bludgers, each twin batted one of the projectiles back at Ron, one hitting his chest and the other his face.

Groaning in mock pain, Ron fell back against the couch. " _All. Year_."

Sitting to Ron's left, Hermione refrained from laughing and focused on tidying up her stacks of notes to put away, but Harry sitting to Ron's right, didn't even try to stop his amused laughter.

Within five minutes, the area around George and Fred became crowded with about two dozen curious students, some having come downstairs from their bedrooms, a few already in their pyjamas.

Fred smiled and then cleared his throat for everyone's attention. "Genteel witches and wizards—and Ron."

"Wanker," Ron said under his breath.

His smile broadening, Fred continued, "We've had a hard time of it this year, and it grows more trying the closer our NEWTs get. With only a week remaining before we make a go at it, George and I thought we could all use some de-stressing."

"Stop jabbering and get to the point, Weasley." Malfoy huffed, lifting his brow and crossing his arms; the white streaks of reflected candlelight on his jet silk pyjamas showing the contours of his fit body.

Fred looked down at Draco and smirked. "George, if you please," he said, fanning out his arm in a grand sweeping gesture.

From a pocket inside his black school robes, George revealed the Sorting Hat; the very hat that should be sat high on the second-to-top shelf in the Headmistress's office.

"Fred. George," Hermione hissed, her back going as straight as her wand. "Have you gone mad? Do you _want_ to get expelled— _again_? Headmistress McGon—"

"Headmistress McGonagall and the rest of the professors," Fred interrupted, "will be celebrating the end of term in the staffroom tonight before becoming swamped with grading next week."

"Likely with a bottle of Ogden's own," George added, recalling the dust-free circular spot behind the hat where McGonagall tended to store a bottle of the spirits.

Nodding in agreement with George, Fred affirmed, "The hat won't be missed for a while; we left a replica."

"Why nick it at all?" Blaise inquired, removing a speck of lint from his tailored white buttoned-down shirt, the fabric a lovely contrast to his dark skin.

Fred regarded Blaise—who lounged on a long carmine ottoman as if he were a sultan and the common-room his very own sultanate—and thought he looked less like a king and more like a model in a spread of _Witch Weekly_. His lips curling in mischievousness, Fred replied, "To sort, of course."

"Fred, why would we need to be resorted?" Harry asked, a line forming between his eyebrows in both confusion and worry. He remembered how close he came to being sorted into Slytherin. The last thing he needed was to be labelled the next up-and-coming Dark Lord.

In agreement with Harry, Pansy nodded and remarked, "Harry's right."

Everyone in the room turned to Pansy, many with their mouths hanging open.

"What?" Pansy asked, sliding her fringe behind her ears in a self-comforting gesture. "He _is_. Why stir the cauldron now? What does house affiliation matter anymore?"

"Thanks to a little tinkering done by George and me, the hat won't sort based on house but on compatibility," Fred explained, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Compatibility of the _sexual_ persuasion."

Shocked inhales and excited murmuring buzzed throughout the chamber.

"To put it more bluntly," Fred went on, "it will match you to the best shag available, given everyone present. Of course, you don't have to participate if you'd rather not."

"But the anti-fornication wards upstairs," Hermione blurted out, causing her and Ron to blush and those in the room to snicker. At the start of the school year, the amorous couple had triggered the wards before McGonagall could warn everyone during the introductory speech.

"Yeah. No offense," Neville said, his more confident and assertive eyes roaming from Lavender Brown's ample cleavage to Cho Chang's pouty lips to Dean Thomas's strong thighs, "but I don't think most of us would feel comfortable having at it down here in front of everybody else, no matter how desperate we may be. And we can't leave; McGonagall made herself clear: anyone caught out past curfew won't get to attend graduation."

Puffing up his chest and smiling, George drew a cotton laundry bag from the hat. "It took Fred and me nearly the entire year, and many an Eyebrow-Regrowing Potion, but we managed it." He pulled out a plain black sock. "Hang this on your doorknob and the wards will be disrupted."

"There's only the one?" Seamus enquired, frustration thickening his Irish accent.

George grinned as if he were a Niffler that had just secured a new hoard of gold, and upended the laundry bag. Black and white socks, socks displaying house colours, and even a peach sock with orange, pink, lime green, and yellow Fwoopers, dropped onto the coffee table.

"So," Fred drawled, "who wants to be first?"

His dark hair still wet from his hurried shower, a late Theo Nott rushed through the crowd, heading toward Draco.

A wide toothy smile on his face, George hopped down from the couch, blocking Theo before he could reach his destination. "Ah, Nott." He caught Theo around the back with an arm. "Thank you for volunteering."

"W-what…" Theo asked in alarm, tugging the lapels of his fluffy green dressing gown tightly closed. His question changed to a shout of alarm when his calves hit something hard, and he fell backwards into a chair that hadn't been there a second ago.

Catching sight of the Sorting Hat and his fellow classmates amused expressions, Theo decided to stay silent, hoping to twig out what was going on.

Once George had placed the hat on Theo's head, he instructed him to relax.

The moment the hat was set on him, Theo wanted to snatch it off and rub his forehead where the scratchy fabric of the hat touched his skin; but instead, he sat still, his mouth a straight line.

" _Hmmmm, Mr Nott_ ," the Sorting hat said in a slow, slurred voice. " _You're quite upset that your shower had to be interrupted_ … _but not to worry, your aching bollocks will be assuaged soon_." As Theo's face and neck flushed red, the hat snorted and then laughed and mumbled to itself for an overlong amount of time. " _Yes…yes… That will do. Mr Nott, go stand in front of the bust of Sir Thankleton_!

Theo removed the hat from his head, shoving it into George's grasp. As he walked past his classmates toward the carving of Sir Thankleton, forever sculpted mid-sneeze, it disconcerted him to see so many pebbled nipples under blouses and erect cocks beneath trousers. A niggle of understanding as to what was happening nudged his own member into action, but still, the suspense of the situation made it feel as if an inflated party balloon was lodged in his chest.

Before George or Fred could ask for the next person, Draco sat in the chair, a show of solidarity for his fellow Slytherin.

Holding the tip-top of the Sorting hat, George settled it over Draco's tousled hair. Draco's face screwed up in distaste when the hat hiccupped, burped, and then giggled.

" _Ahhhh, Mr Malfoy…I know just where to put you—next to Mr Nott_!"

Draco's eyes and everyone else's—save Pansy's—were as round as Quaffles. Concentrating on his breathing, Draco kept his next breath as even as he could. His vision narrowed until all he saw was the gleaming sword of Gryffindor, held by Godric himself, on a tapestry against the far wall.

A manicured, long-fingered hand touched his shoulder, and Draco turned his head to the left and looked up.

"Don't fret, Draco," Pansy comforted. "I'm sure you are only the first of many interesting revelations tonight." She bent over and kissed Draco on the cheek. "Now, up," she ordered. "I want to go next; it'll be amusing being able to watch the face of whoever is paired with me."

Chuckling, Draco gave Pansy a grateful smile and took her hand, helping her into the chair. His heart fluttered as he caught sight of Nott: shy, bookish, but sporting a tall, lithe swimmer's body. Draco held back a moan, pre-cum already wetting his pyjamas.

Once Pansy left to go stand by the medieval suit of armour, Blaise rose from the ottoman and sauntered the few steps to the chair, sitting down as though it were a throne. When George made to place the hat, Blaise angled his head out of the way.

"No offence, Weasley," Blaise began, "but I don't like it when a person I don't really know gets too close."

"No offence taken," George reassured, dropping the Sorting Hat into Zabini's open hands.

Blaise raised the hat with both arms and then lowered it onto his head. The instant the hat made contact, it shouted, " _To the bust of_ _Sir Thankleton_!"

Besides raising an eyebrow, Blaise's cool demeanour remained unaffected. He proceeded to remove the hat and deposit it onto the chair before joining Draco and Theo, who were both stunned into silence.

Hermione popped up from the couch. "I'll go next," she said in a clear voice, grinning at Ron. Taking the Sorting Hat from the chair, she sat down and positioned the hat.

" _HA_!" the hat exclaimed, causing Hermione and many in the crowd to jump. " _Miss Granger, your mind is more diverting than the time I witnessed Gryffindor and Slytherin duelling with their wands, if you catch my meaning…_ " Cackling like a dodgy old wizard, the hat _oooo_ 'd and _ahhh_ 'd at what it spied in Hermione's head.

Hermione grew stiff with worry, resembling more and more her anxious first-year self. When the Sorting Hat ceased its suggestive mutterings, she held her breath.

" _You were a difficult one_ , _Miss Granger_ ," the hat said, its words running into each other, _"but you will find the most pleasure with—Miss Parkinson_!"

"WHAT!" Hermione screamed, her eyes darting back and forth between Pansy's delighted face and Ron's expression of horror. "B-b-but… I… _I love Ron_." And she knew how true her proclamation was. She knew Ron was _hers_. She would die for him. She wanted to grow old together with him. But besides all that, she lusted for him. Every morning and evening, and many times in between, she wanted to be naked and wrapped in his arms.

But then, Hermione saw Pansy bite her plump lower lip in nervousness, her tongue slipping out to lick it before her mouth surrounded the swollen bit of flesh and sucked. Hermione gasped when her knickers became wet.

Frowning in thought, Hermione rationalised that the hat didn't take emotional attachment into consideration. Her sort could be as simple as Pansy being best suited to eat out _her_ pussy. She snorted. There was no real harm with playing along. She wouldn't have to go through with it if she didn't want to, and she was sure if she decided against it, then Ron would do the same.

Her confidence renewed, Hermione pushed the hat into George's hands and strutted to Pansy. Making sure Ron was watching, she drew Pansy to her and slid a hand underneath Pansy's cashmere jumper, the softness of the fabric not comparing to the softness of Pansy's skin. Hermione tilted her head to the side and pressed her lips to Pansy's. They teased each other with their mouths, only the tips of their tongues touching, small kisses interspersed throughout.

"Oi!" Ron yelled, his shout breaking the witches' embrace, leaving them in a daze. He had stopped them, not out of jealousy, but because of how hard he'd become. His cock strained against his trousers to such a degree, he wouldn't be surprised if he found zip indentations later.

Exploding up from the couch, Ron snatched the hat from George. Not bothering to take a seat, he yanked the hat onto his head.

" _Ho, hooo_ ," the Sorting hat crowed. " _Mr Weasley, join Misses Granger and Parkinson_!"

Hearing whom he had been matched with, Ron almost burst inside his trousers right then and there.

With relief and anticipation, Hermione whispered into Pansy's ear, "All the rumours are true," referring to Ron's gossiped about large size and enthusiasm in bed.

Pansy's lips parted, her chest rising and falling faster, causing a slow smile to spread across Hermione's face.

One by one the hat continued sorting the dwindling crowd of students.

The results left Parvati and Padma Patil speaking in hushed tones in front of the fireplace, glancing at Harry sitting on the couch.

To the right side of the room, Neville and Hannah Abbott, having eyes only for each other, stood next to a lamp made out of a shrunken schooner; pure-blood Daphne Greengrass and Muggle-born Justin Finch-Fletchley shared a seat on a stiff leather chaise longue; and Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Cho Chang sat huddled together on a window seat.

To the left side of the room, Lavender Brown, Ernie Macmillan, and Anthony Goldstein were already taking turns snogging each other against a tall bookshelf; Lisa Turpin, Michael Corner, Mandy Brocklehurst, and Terry Boot discussed the _Kama Sutra_ underneath a tapestry of Rowena Ravenclaw; Leanne Law and Susan Bones held hands next to the portrait of Lady Perry; while Millicent Bulstrode sat alone at a small study table.

"Harry," Fred said, "ready for your turn?"

"Yeah, I-I guess," Harry replied, his legs shaky as he stood.

The room quieted when Harry lowered himself into the chair. He wanted to close his eyes but kept them open; the descending hat shadowing his face, its brim resembling the moon, eclipsing the top-half view of the chamber.

" _Mr Potter_ …" the hat crooned, " _no worries, no worries_. _This time around won't be nearly as tricky._ " Less than a second later, it shouted, " _To the bust of Sir Thankleton_!"

At the Sorting Hat's words, Harry's eyes flew to the stone carving and the three wizards standing around it; Nott reacting with a gulp, Malfoy with his mouth falling open, and Zabini with a slight widening of the eyes.

Harry didn't know how to react, appearing as if he were under an _Immobulus_. After two deep breaths, he stood and began crossing the room to the trio of Slytherins, George reaching over to remove the hat before Harry could walk off with it.

With each step, Harry's numbness lessened and more details filtered into his brain: Malfoy's just-shagged-looking hair; Theo's revealed smooth chest inside the open _V_ of his dressing gown; and Blaise's too stiff posture, his hands hidden inside the pockets of his black trousers. And never mind their initial jolt, now, the evidence of their sexual appetite swelled beneath their clothing.

Harry stumbled over his own foot. If he went through with this, he'd be shagging _three_ wizards… Was that even possible? On different occasions to increase his pleasure during wanking, he'd inserted up his arse: his fingers, toys, and even his wand, a time or two, but he'd never shagged a bloke. A witch here and there while pissed, after post-war celebrations, yes. But never a bloke.

Once Harry reached them, Theo asked in a lowered voice, "Potter, you alright? D-do you need to sit down? You look as pale as a goblin."

Theo's eyes were wide with concern, and Harry blinked. Harry had always thought Theo had light brown eyes, but this close, he could see starbursts of brown surrounded by grey-green, speckled with gold.

"You have beautiful eyes," Harry said before he could think better.

Theo jerked in surprise, pink blotches forming on his exposed chest and neck.

"Sorry," Harry apologised, the tops of his ears burning. Crossing his arms, he turned around to see what Fred and George were up to—and to limit further embarrassment.

The chair used for the sort had been returned to its spot next to a side table decorated with a large bouquet of orange Hook Horns, which looked like stretched-out-and-curlicued calla lilies. Assuming the location where the chair had been, Fred watched as George finished collecting all the socks from the coffee table.

"Alright," Fred shouted, clapping his hands once. "Everyone, stay sorted and queue in front of me along the wall, here." He pointed at the area to the right of the fireplace and past the stairs which led to the men's bedrooms. Like a hungry colony of ants, the scattered clumps of wizards and witches lined up.

With large grins and waggling eyebrows, George and Fred first strode over to Parvati and Padma.

Fred offered them a white sock trimmed with lace and said, "George and I _know_ you two will have a very enlightening evening."

Parvati and Padma glimpsed at each other from the corner of an eye before staring down at the sock for a few silent moments. Parvati reached for the sock only to pause an inch short. Rubbing her thumb and forefinger together, she glanced at her sister again. When Padma nodded, Parvati's body responded by tightening in the most pleasant of ways, and her hand quickly covered the last inch.

Down the line Fred and George went, handing out socks and the promise of brilliant sex as if they were a pair of naughty Father Christmases, until they arrived before Harry, Theo, Draco, and Blaise.

"Hello, Harry," George greeted, offering a white tube sock banded with a green stripe.

Staring down at the sock, still avoiding eye contact with his group, Harry grimaced. "Hi, George. Fred."

"Hello, Harry," Fred replied with an amused grin, rocking on the balls of his feet with his arms crossed. "Nott. Malfoy. Zabini," he continued, sharing a nod with each after saying their name.

"Harry, it's not going to bite you if you take it," George teased, swaying the sock from side to side.

"Unless you're into that," Fred added, enjoying Harry's increased discomfort. "If you are, then maybe—"

"No!" Harry snatched the sock out of George's fingers; the enchanted cotton fabric emitting heat, the same heat felt when two bodies are entwined. "I mean…no thanks. _This_ —" he crushed and wiggled the sock, thinking more about his current situation than the sock itself "—is more than enough."

George cupped his mouth with his left hand and shouted down the queue, "Go ahead and enjoy yourselves!" He gyrated his hips. "Have at it!"

Watching the groups, some hesitant and some eager, disappear upstairs, Fred wiped away an imaginary tear. "Our little sprogs, they've grown up so fast." George laughed, banishing the empty laundry bag.

"B-but what about you two?" Harry asked, gripping the tube sock with both hands.

As he sauntered past, George answered, "Oh, Fred and I, we already had our go," showing Harry a rolled-up plain black sock in his left hand. With his right hand, George let gravity unfurl the sock, dangling it in front of the last person in line: Millicent Bulstrode.

Millicent frowned and then, shrugging her shoulders, accepted the sock. But when she pulled, George didn't let go. Tugging, he encouraged her to come closer.

Standing to George's left, Fred smiled and took Millicent's free hand, kissing her fingertips. "We can be yours tonight, but you must promise us one thing."

Her lips parted, and her round cheeks reddened. "What?" she whispered, both aroused, and afraid she would have to dot the twins in their pretty faces if she were being played.

"You must promise to talk," George replied.

Millicent's brows rose into her fringe. "Talk?"

"Talk," Fred confirmed.

Millicent didn't speak often, and when she did, it was usually repressed mumbles. And it was a shame. Her real voice was honeyed with a seductive huskiness. It was the kind of voice that promised pleasure and fuelled a person's lust; coaxing or controlling, it made a person _want_ to obey, _want_ to please.

Staring down at her hands still linked to Fred and George, then up at their faces, Millicent swallowed. She didn't know if she could do what the Weasleys wanted. To speak. To speak her desires loud and clear. It was hard enough asking for someone to pass the salt at mealtime. But could she give up such an experience: shagging the insufferable and brilliant Weasley twins… No, she couldn't.

"Alright… I agree." Taking a deep breath, Millicent shook off Fred's and George's hold and then spoke loud enough Harry and her loitering housemates could hear. "You." She pointed at George. "Kiss him," she swung her finger to Fred, "everywhere he has freckles."

At her words, George's eyes closed for a second in bliss. "Where should I start?"

Millicent smiled. "His forehead. And take your time…" Gaining more confidence, she added, "Hold him by the wrists, too. He can't touch you until I say."

His cock already leaking, Fred lifted his hands in offering. George slid his fingers around his brother's wrists, massaging his thumbs over Fred's pulse points before gripping firmly.

Closing his eyes, George inhaled Fred's familiar scent of cinnamon and caraway. Tipping his head up, he pressed his lips to Fred's brow, a tender, loving kiss. George continued on to Fred's temples, his eyelids, and cheeks. He stopped for a moment staring down Fred's mouth. No freckles there. But he wanted. How he wanted to crush his lips against his brother's, pry his brother's lips open with his tongue, and taste him.

Instead, using the tip of his nose, George nudged Fred's jaw upwards, exposing the long line of his neck. Fred tensed when he felt the light touch of George's teeth and tongue. When George increased the pressure of his bite, swirling his tongue and sucking, Fred moaned, letting his head fall back.

Squeezing her thighs together, feeling breathless, Millicent barked, "Enough. Both of you, hands to your sides." She wanted to finger her dripping pussy right then, but sighting her lustful classmates in her periphery, she knew she didn't want to share; she wanted the Weasleys and everything they had to offer, all to herself.

"Did you like what your brother did to you," Millicent purred, scraping a fingernail over the darkening bruise on Fred's neck. "Do you want me to allow him to continue?"

Fred groaned. "Yes."

"Then follow me."

With Fred and George trailing close behind, Millicent marched past Harry and her housemates, giving them all a nod of farewell. "Gentlemen."

"Shall we make our way upstairs, as well?" Blaise suggested as if he were speaking about the possibility of rain and not about the possibility of shagging three other blokes.

Harry worried his bottom lip. He could sense the solid presences of the remaining wizards flanking him. All he had to do was take one step backwards, and he would be touching them all at the same time. He shuddered and stifled a moan. Merlin, but he was gagging to know what it would feel like to be enveloped by them, skin on skin, sweat slicked bodies moving in tandem.

"You do have the sock, Potter," Draco reminded Harry. "If you're not up for a good lay, hand it over."

"No." Harry turned around to face them. "And why waste time going upstairs?" He tossed the sock onto a nearby rosewood chiffonier. "Nobody else is down here, now."

Draco hid his anxiety with a sneer. "Then lead the way."

Scanning the common-room, Harry's eyes came to a stop on the long red ottoman Blaise had occupied earlier. That would do. "There," he said, pointing. Not hearing any objections, he ventured towards the furniture piece, feeling satisfied when he heard their echoing footsteps.

Once they all had arrived, the tension increased. They looked at each other, pretending aloofness, but their dilated pupils gave them all away.

With his penchant for diving right in, Harry broke the silence first. "M-may I touch you?" he asked Theo, standing nearest him. However, proximity wasn't the reason Harry had propositioned Theo first; it was because Theo intimidated him the least. Even now, Theo stood barefoot, wearing a cosy dressing gown, his hair loose and damp, curling around his ears.

"Okay," Theo breathed.

Harry and Theo entered each other's personal space. Fingers trembling, Harry untied the belt at Theo's waist. Flattening both of his palms onto Theo's upper chest, he then slid his hands apart, revealing rosy nipples. Harry glanced down the expanse of Theo's toned body and gasped, stunned to see Theo bare, no pants in sight. Theo's erect cock glistened, his glans a deeper shade than the hard nubs on his chest.

Once Theo's dressing gown puddled onto the floor, Harry explored; running his fingers down Theo's slim torso, up the globes of his bum and the planes of his tight back.

Draco and Blaise observed Harry and Theo from the other side of the ottoman, Draco looking on with envy and Blaise with seeming coolness. Draco closed his eyes and squeezed the base of his member through his pyjama bottoms when Harry took Theo's right nipple into his mouth, making Theo tip back his head and cry out in pleasure.

Theo loved what Harry was doing to him, but this time, he wanted something different. In the past, he always had the role of the meek and compliant lover: the person who had things done _to_ him. This time, _he_ wanted to be the instigator. This time, _he_ wanted to know what it would feel like having someone writhing beneath him.

As Harry teased Theo's left nipple with his teeth, Theo panted. "Fuck…" It felt so bloody brilliant. If he didn't ask what he wanted soon, he would lose all resolve. "Potter," Theo moaned, "may I touch you?"

His lips wet and eyelids heavy, Harry regarded Theo and considered his request. Theo's eyes were earnest but hungry. It remained unsaid, but Theo was asking him to give up control and let someone else dole out the pleasure, to let whatever would happen, happen. Harry couldn't remember the last time he let someone else take the reins, either in the bedroom or in everyday life. He could use a break.

Harry smiled up at Theo and answered, "Yes…please."

Hearing Harry's assent, Theo's nostrils flared, and air whooshed into his lungs. With a bit of a gloat at Draco and Blaise, Theo used his height to his advantage and pulled Harry's T-shirt up and off. He drank in Harry's chest and torso, the smattering of dark hair between his defined abs disappearing into his jeans.

Theo gripped Harry by the waist and drew him closer. He nuzzled Harry's neck, inhaling his windswept scent. The rate of Harry's breathing increased, but he stayed docile, allowing Theo to strew kisses down his body.

Panting, Harry moaned when Theo knelt, burrowing his nose next to Harry's aroused groin. Theo traced Harry's erection with his cheeks and chin before reaching up to unfasten Harry's jeans. Sinking his hands into the sides of Harry's pants, Theo slid his arms around until he cupped Harry's taut buttocks, giving them a possessive squeeze. He shoved Harry's garments down past his knees and just stared, enjoying Harry's near nakedness, grinning when Harry blushed at his blatant appreciation.

"Don't close your eyes," Theo instructed. "Watch me." He took one of Harry's testicles into his mouth, massaging the delicate flesh with his tongue.

"Uhmnnn… Merlin…" Harry murmured, his hands fisting at his sides. He bit his lips to keep his eyes focused on Theo as he sucked his bollocks, then trembled as Theo's mouth moved up the base of his shaft to hover over the head of his leaking cock.

With the tip of his tongue, Theo glided over the bottom ridge of Harry's glans, repeating the motion with more pressure. He uttered a sound of pleasure, tasting Harry's unique flavour; it reminding him of the salty ocean during a storm.

"Ah!" Harry cried out when Theo's hot mouth engulfed half of his cock.

Theo relaxed his throat, taking Harry deeper and deeper with each plunge. As he devoured Harry's prick, perfectly proportioned for deep throating, he fisted his own member, sliding his hand up and down at a slow, steady pace.

Theo's mouth was magic, Harry thought, his toes curling inside his Muggle trainers. None of the other witches even came close to what Theo—

Harry gasped when warm silk caressed against the length of his back. Straining his neck to peer over his shoulder, he found Malfoy. His eyes widened a moment later when he noticed the cool wet spot from Draco's seeping rod still encased in pyjama bottoms and pushing into his lower back.

"M-Malfoy," Harry stuttered.

"Quiet, Potter," Draco husked, tilting Harry's face up, showcasing the corded muscles of his neck. He placed a tentative kiss on Harry's lips, swallowing hard, waiting for Harry's negative reaction. But none came. Instead, Harry returned the kiss, running his fingers through Draco's satiny hair.

Soon their kiss turned hot and frantic, tongues fighting, teeth clicking, while Harry's hand raked through or tugged at Draco's hair, making it as unkempt as his own.

Harry was afraid his knees would buckle from Theo's and Draco's attentions. Breaking his mind-blowing snog with Draco, Harry choked out, "Ottoman," groaning with regret when Theo's talented mouth ceased its ministrations.

As Theo rose to his feet, Draco made short work of his pyjamas, using his wand to undo the mother-of-pearl buttons of his shirt while shimmying out of his bottoms. Draco's pale chest was as smooth as Theo's, but with light pink nipples. His cock was the same colour as the rest of his body, ridged with blue veins, and as elegant as he was: long and straight.

After Draco aided Harry in removing the last vestiges of his clothing, he entwined the fingers of his left hand with Harry's. Harry glanced across the ottoman and noticed Blaise standing in the exact same position as earlier. The same vain expression. The same impeccable attire, not an inch out of place. All he did was watch, roving his eyes over Harry's, Draco's, and Theo's bodies.

Draco lay down on the ottoman and helped Harry straddle his thighs, wrapping his arms around Harry and pulling him down to continue their snog.

"Merlin, Potter," Draco moaned when Harry began rutting against him, the friction of their cocks heavenly.

Harry sensed the heat of Theo's body from behind before Theo grabbed the front of Harry's firm thighs, directing him to lift his pelvis up and away from Draco.

"Nott, w-what… _Ah_!" Harry shouted in surprise when he felt a lick against his puckered hole. "Nott…" his chest rumbled as Theo's tongue traced around his opening, stimulating the sensitive nerve ending of his bum like never before.

Theo ate out Harry's arse as if he were famished, as if he were feasting on ambrosia. He speared his tongue in and out of Harry's hole and relished how Harry was coming apart from his touch.

A few minutes later, Harry's opening glistened and quivered in readiness, loose and slippery with saliva. But saliva wouldn't be enough.

"Malfoy," Theo called out, his voice rough.

Pulling Harry's bottom lips with his teeth before answering, Draco groaned, "What."

"Is your wand handy?"

Draco's right hand patted the area of the ottoman near his hip, finding his wand nestled against his side. "Yeah, have it," Draco mumbled, scattering kisses down Harry's throat. "Cast now?"

"Yeah, I have an envious view, Malfoy; he's perfect."

Draco made a long _S_ with his wand, directing the charm at Harry's bum. " _Lubricantem_."

Familiar with the spell, Harry enjoyed the sensation of warmth melting into his rectum, coating his passage. Keen to be stuffed with his first cock, Harry groaned and wiggled his bottom.

Locking eyes with Harry, Draco clutched Harry by the hips, guiding him down onto his length. "Fuck, Potter," he moaned in disbelief and pleasure. He was balls deep in _Harry Potter_. "Merlin… So fucking amazing," Draco muttered, pumping his cock into Harry's slick hole. He had always wanted the first bloke he would shag to be Potter, and it was happening. Potter was above him, allowing himself to be used by the likes of him.

Draco tensed his arms, preventing Harry from bottoming out on his cock once more. He needed to regain control, or he would spill himself into Potter too soon.

Harry's and Draco's eyes bulged when they felt the head of Theo's cock push into Harry's opening.

"Fuck!" Harry cried as Theo stretched him wide, wider than he'd ever been, pushing him past his limits to where pain meets pleasure.

Theo gasped when his cock slid completely into a tight hole for the first time. "Ah, fuck!" he exclaimed, gritting his teeth, holding himself still. When Draco shifted below, one cock moving against the other while they were both sheathed in Harry, Theo almost came. "Don't move," he demanded in desperation.

Once his breathing calmed, Theo gave Draco a nod of readiness. Draco began shallowly thrusting his hips while Theo took advantage of his leverage and hammered his rod into Harry in long sure strokes.

Harry had his eyes closed and mouth open, revelling in the sensation of fullness when a thumb traced his bottom lip. He opened his eyes to find Blaise standing beside him. Blaise's facial features remained unchanged, but his eyes, his eyes burned with lust.

Watching them had tortured Blaise; he had wanted to join from the onset, but to be so vulnerable in front of rivals and possible enemies, he had been taught it was always too great a risk. But Merlin, he had felt both hot and cold inside. Not showing any emotion. Not touching himself. Not giving into weakness. Then again, Potter was good; he was a hero, Blaise excused. Potter could be trusted.

What had tipped the scale for him was Potter submitting to his fellow Slytherins. No games. No ulterior motives. Potter basking in his pleasure, nothing more.

Having gained Harry's attention, with smooth finesse, Blaise unzipped his flies, removing his proud length from his silk pants.

Harry's breath hitched; he had never seen a wizard as hung as Blaise, even in the dirty magazines he owl ordered from Flourish & Blotts. Blaise's cock was as thick as Harry's wrist, and so long, it weighted itself down.

Still fully clothed in his snappy wizarding attire, Blaise stepped onto the ottoman, placing a foot on either side of Draco's waist. With Harry looking up at him in awe, he righted Harry's glasses upon his nose before burying both of his hands into the back of Harry's soft, unruly mop.

Angling Harry's head up and bending slightly at the knees, Blaise positioned himself in front of Harry's mouth. Harry's expression of desire and trepidation amused him, but he kept his lips from twitching into a grin.

With absolute control, Blaise wiped the accumulated pre-cum on the head of his cock onto Harry's kissed-swollen lips. Harry slipped out his tongue, touching and tasting him at the same time, necessitating Blaise to inhale a slow, deep breath.

Harry, already high on endorphins, opened his jaw wide to accommodate Blaise's girth. Being pulled forward by the back of his head, Harry engulfed Blaise's cock with wet heat, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked hard, massaging with his tongue.

Blaise's face gave nothing away as he pumped his hips in an invariable rhythm, but now, both of his hands were clutching Harry's hair so hard that Harry's scalp had begun to ache. Harry relaxed his throat and tilted his head to accommodate more of Blaise's length while he simultaneously clenched his sphincter. He observed as Blaise swallowed and then parted his lips for a moment. He also grinned around Blaise's cock when he heard Draco's and Theo's moans.

Four minutes later, beads of sweat had formed on Blaise's forehead, and he was breathing heavily through clenched teeth, but his thrusts were still rather sedate.

When Draco began stroking Harry through the window of Blaise's legs, Harry's throat convulsed in surprise, and his mouth vibrated with a long groan.

Harry's wanton action blasted the last shred of control Blaise had. With a deep growl, Blaise began fucking Harry's mouth without mercy, bottoming out his long, thick cock.

"Fuck…" Blaise moaned in a low voice, repeating the word over and over, each time a little louder, and then the first spasm of orgasm hit him.

"FUUUCK!" Blaise roared, shooting his load straight down Harry's willing throat. As he came, he was dizzy with bliss; swearing, grunting, and moaning his pleasure until he was floating in a sea of contentment. Panting, Blaise collapsed onto his knees, resting his forehead on Harry's shoulder, and ignored Draco's hand moving near his crotch, still fondling Harry.

Theo had been enraptured by Blaise's journey to release; his refined but stifled bearing falling away, one thrust at a time. The picture of his face at the end, a mixture of peace and surrender, stayed in Theo's mind as he pounded next to Draco's prick and into Harry's arse.

"It's coming…" Theo groaned. "I can feel it…so close." And then he was shuddering, grinding himself into Harry's arse as deep as possible so that every drop of his come would land inside Harry's hot hole. "Feel that, Potter. Feel me filling you up."

Harry groaned and, in a guttural voice, replied, "Yes," rocking himself atop Draco.

Draco hissed; Blaise's, Theo's, and Harry's actions pushing him to the brink. On his next thrust, he drove his member in deeper than he had been able to, Theo's cock having begun to soften and his spunk adding lubrication.

Canting his hips so that Draco would slam directly into his prostate, Harry stared straight at him and pleaded, "Please, Malfoy… Fuck me harder. Need you…"

It was going to happen, Draco thought, committing to memory Harry's bruised lips and tousled hair; Potter was begging _him_ for it. "Oh, fuck… Oh, fuck… Potter…"

"Malfoy," Harry responded, encouraging Draco with his hips to fist his cock faster. "Yes," he hissed. "Want you…"

Harry was too much. Draco's eyes rolled back into his head as thick jets of come flooded into Harry. "Ah…" he gasped each time another strong pull of his muscles swept over him until his last spasm petered out.

Harry's arse twitched as Theo's and Draco's release trickled out of him. He was right there, on the cusp of his own orgasm, but this felt too brilliant; he didn't want it to end.

Blaise's hand joined Draco's in stimulating Harry's cock, causing Harry's body to arch and then stiffen.

"YES!" Harry cried out as the first shattering pulse of ecstasy flared throughout his body. Line after line of creamy come erupted from his prick and onto Blaise's custom-made clothes until he was completely wrung out.

While Harry came down from his high, Blaise peered at the state of his shirt and then, not bothering to hide what he was feeling, broke into quiet laughter, the corners of his slanted eyes crinkling with unabashed amusement. Swiping his thumb against his shirt, Blaise brought the digit to his mouth, sucking and tasting, and when Harry leaned forward for a kiss, he let him.

 **The End**

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Thank you for reading! Comments are always welcome. **For this fest, I also drew a piece titled "The Snake Dress," featuring cross-dressing!Draco. It can be viewed on DeviantArt under ladyofsilverdawn or on AO3 under ladyofsilverdawn (ladyofSD).** :)


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